


Closer to the edge

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Punching out my dancelines [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Break Up, Break up sex, Fingon drinks his feelings, Fingon hooking up with someone other than Maedhros, M/M, Maedhros is bad at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros tries to end things with Fingon. And for a little while, it works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ближе к краю](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571973) by [rio_abajo_rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rio_abajo_rio/pseuds/rio_abajo_rio)



> 0\. This is that break-up I’ve been alluding to in DWMP.  
> 1\. It takes place Fingon’s junior year of college; so approx 3-4 years before DWMP. Maedhros is about two years out of college.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0\. For most of the time I was writing this, I just titled it “Fin/Mae angstfest”. So. Let that tell you something.  
> 1\. Many thanks to Silje for her input (and helping me make it _slightly_ less soap operatic).

“I can’t see you anymore.”

He wouldn’t let himself look at Fingon, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ …

He raised his eyes.

Fingon had gone very pale, and his hands were clenched together before him. “Why?”

Maedhros swallowed. “You know why. After everything that’s happened – I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?” demanded Fingon again. He was looking straight at Maedhros now, and his eyes were bright with anger. “Did your dad put you up to this?”

“No.” Maedhros wrapped his fingers together helplessly. _There are things you can say at times like these; say them._ “It’s just not working anymore. We’re not – I don’t think we’re compatible – ”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” said Fingon. He was shaking now, but his voice was steady. “This is about your father.”

 _Fine_.

“Yes.” Maedhros clenched his jaw. “That’s part of it, yes. I can’t be loyal to my father and still be with you.” _There. The truth._

“That’s such a pile of shit,” spat Fingon. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Everything,” said Maedhros, feeling a flicker of anger of his own. “You know it does.”

“I’m not my father, and you’re not yours,” said Fingon. “How many times do we have to have this argument? We can leave the whole company thing out of it, it doesn’t have to determine _us_.” 

“Don’t be so naive,” said Maedhros. “How can our fathers’ situation not affect us? You think I don’t care that Nolofinwë has taken over where - ” 

“I can’t believe you’re the one getting angry.” Fingon laughed. “Christ, what irony. If anyone should be pissed here, it’s me. My dad’s the one who almost got killed when some supporter of _your father’s_ tried to assassinate him.”

“My father had nothing to do with that,” said Maedhros tightly. “As I’ve told you, many times.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Really!” Maedhros clenched his fists. “You’re just proving my point, Findekáno. Of course we can’t keep on like this – How many times are we going to have this same fight? How could you possibly want to be with me if you believe my father tried to have yours killed?”

“Because I love you!” snarled Fingon. “I love you, you asshole, and I don’t _care_ about politics or family or anything else!”

“It’s not enough,” said Maedhros, and Fingon flinched back as though he’d been struck.

“Not enough?” He stared at Maedhros. “Not enough that I love you? I’ve loved you for _four years_ , Mae, and I finally thought maybe you loved me too. Was I wrong?”

“No,” said Maedhros, and looked away. “I did.”

“But now?”

Maedhros closed his eyes. _Do it._ “Not anymore.”

“Liar.” Fingon’s voice was shaking now too. “ _Liar_. Look me in the eye, Maitimo. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

“I don’t – ”

“ _Look at me._ ”

Maedhros couldn’t. Instead he stared fixedly at the floor as he said quietly, “I don’t love you. Not enough to make this work.”

Fingon took a shaky breath. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s over.” Maedhros stood up, refusing to look at Fingon trembling before him. “It’s been over for months, really, I was just deluding myself that we could… Anyway. You’ll be better off without me.” He swallowed. “I’ll be better off without you.” 

Fingon let out a small, broken noise at that, and something in Maedhros keened in agony. 

 _Keep going_. 

“Goodbye, Findekáno.”

- 

He barely made it out the door before his strength failed him and he collapsed against the wall of the dorm hallway, shaking from head to toe, feeling as though someone had punched him in the gut. He bent over at the waist, wrapping his arms around himself, struggling to breathe. _  
_

_Leave, leave, you coward, get out..._

But he couldn’t move, couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop thinking about Fingon sitting there on the edge of the bed, looking so lost and hurt, the anguish in his eyes…

 _Leave, leave, leave,_ his brain chanted, but he was rooted to the spot.

Almost without realizing what he was doing, he reached for the doorknob again, just as the door was yanked open from the inside.

Fingon’s furious gaze fell on him.

“Coward,” he spat. “I _knew_ you were lying.”

“Findekáno,” whispered Maedhros, and reached for him.

Fingon pulled him back into the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and Maedhros seized him, hauling him up against his body and kissing him fiercely.

“You fucking asshole, Maitimo,” Fingon gasped against his lips, even as his hands fisted in Maedhros’ shirt. “You fucking liar, you – ”

“I love you,” whispered Maedhros. “I love you, I love you, I – ”

“I _know_ , you bastard.” Fingon clung to him, and Maedhros could feel the burn of his tears against his cheek. Maedhros kissed him again, and Fingon groaned. “Please – ”

As Fingon fumbled with his belt, Maedhros wrapped him close and bore him down to the bed. 

“Clothes - off, let me _see_ you,” Fingon ordered hoarsely, and Maedhros pulled off his shirt before reaching down to jerk Fingon’s jeans down around his hips. 

They moved together with brutal familiarity, Fingon cursing him in a low, wrecked voice, and Maedhros kissed him and touched him in all the ways he knew he liked best, until Fingon was gasping under him, and Maedhros rocked into him, bringing them both closer and closer to the edge, even as tears streamed from Fingon’s eyes. Maedhros licked them away and buried his face in Fingon’s neck as he came, his own groan breaking on a sob.

Fingon rolled over as soon as Maedhros pulled out of him, turning his back to Maedhros, his fingers clenching on the sheets. Maedhros lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, telling himself to leave, to get out, to make an end to it; but instead he lay still, his breath short and ragged, his eyes burning.

_Leave leave leave…_

“Just go already, you fucking coward,” came Fingon’s voice. “Jesus, Maitimo, why do you have to drag it out?”

Maedhros tried to answer, but found himself incapable of speech. Instead he rolled over and wrapped his arms around Fingon’s waist, burying his face in Fingon’s hair, pressing his hot skin to Fingon’s neck.

“Fuck, grow some _balls_ , Nelyo,” Fingon growled, and twisted around in his arms. He braced himself over Maedhros and pinned him the mattress. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you,” he said harshly, as Maedhros looked up at him, half blind from tears. “I _will not_ feel sorry for you _.”_

Maedhros shook his head, but still couldn’t speak, and Fingon let out a snarl and kissed him ferociously. This time their lovemaking was rough and angry, and when he tried to say something, Fingon wrapped a hand over his mouth and whispered, “Shut up.” He closed his eyes, then, and let Fingon take him hard, until the bed rocked back against the wall, and when they at last came together, it was with Fingon’s hand still over Maedhros’ mouth, and Maedhros’ fingernails digging welts into Fingon’s back.

Fingon collapsed on top of him, burying his face in Maedhros’ shoulder, and Maedhros held him tightly, and kissed his sweat-damp hair, and closed his eyes against the pain and pretended, for a moment, it was just like it always had been. 

They fell asleep like that, Fingon curled into Maedhros’ arms, whispering love and curses in equal measure, as Maedhros stroked his hair and pressed kisses to his closed eyelids and refused to let himself think of the morning.

 

-

 

In the morning, Fingon was once more turned away from him in bed, and this time Maedhros rose without hesitating, pulled on his clothes, and left, not looking back.

 

-

 

Maglor tapped his fingers on the counter, a steady drumbeat of anxiety that Caranthir let continue for five minutes before snapping.

“What _is_ it, Makalaurë?”

“Hm?” Maglor jumped and looked up, apparently shocked to see his brother standing there.

Caranthir glowered. “You’re doing that annoying thing you do when you’re fretting. What is it this time?”

“Oh.” Maglor looked down at his fingers and consciously stilled them. “It’s Maitimo.”

Caranthir frowned. “Why are you worried about him?”

“He was going to go end things with Findekáno yesterday.”

Caranthir’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“Yes, exactly.” Maglor sighed, and resumed drumming his fingers. “But he didn’t come home last night.”

“Which means…”

“It means either he spent the night with Findekáno, or he spent the night…elsewhere.” Maglor’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like the sound of either prospect.”

“Damn.” Caranthir seated himself and put his feet up on the table. “Maybe he just wanted one last good lay and then dumped him in the morning.”

Maglor turned an uncharacteristically dark look on his brother. “Do you really think Maitimo is capable of something like that?”

Caranthir shrugged. “Why not?”

“It’s not in his nature. He wouldn’t do something like that to Findekáno, even if – ”

“Whatever.” Caranthir rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe they’ve even lasted this long. I thought dad would bust his spleen when he found out.”

“You can’t help who you love,” said Maglor absently, and checked his watch. “ _Dammit_. Where is he?”

As if on cue, the front door banged and a tall figure strode into the house, his hands buried in his pockets, his head down.

“Maitimo!” Maglor straightened up at once, opening his mouth to speak, but he quickly shut it again at the look on his brother’s face.

Caranthir had no such qualms. “So, are you single again?”

“Moryo!” hissed Maglor, but Maedhros didn’t even look up.

“Get your feet off the table,” was all he said, and then he was gone.

Maglor hurried after him. “Maitimo – ”

“Leave me be.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can _leave me alone_.”

Maglor slowed, falling back as his brother disappeared down the hallway to his room. “Okay.”

But later, he slipped into Maedhros’ room and sat lightly on the edge of the bed. 

“There’s food downstairs.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“When you are…” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“That’s okay.”  

They sat together in silence, and when Maglor brushed a hand over his brother’s hair, Maedhros stared blankly into space but didn’t tell him to leave.

 

-

 

“What’s his room number again?”

“Um. 207, I think.” Aredhel pulled out her phone and flicked through her messages. “Damn, still nothing.”

“His phone’s off.” Turgon leaned against the exterior wall of the dorm, keeping one eye peeled for residents entering or exiting. “It’s gone straight to voicemail for the past day.”

Aredhel raised her eyes to the windows of the dorm, though of course she had no idea which one was Fingon’s. “Do you think…Do you think everything’s okay?” There was a slight note of anxiety in her voice.

“That’s why we’re here,” said Turgon, and pushed himself up off the wall, “Someone’s coming out, quick – ”

As a student pushed through the doors, Aredhel and Turgon slipped past going the opposite direction, trying to look nonchalant.

“Second floor. Stairs, where are the – Look over there.”

They darted up the stairs, no longer pretending they weren’t in a hurry, dashing down the hallway, counting numbers.

“203, 205 – Here!”

Turgon drew up before the door marked 207, his breath coming hard. He rapped on the door, then pressed his ear against it, listening. “Findekáno?”

Aredhel rocked back and forth on her heels. “He’s not answering.”

“I _know_.” Turgon pounded on the door again. “Findekáno!”

Still no response.

“Fuck this,” said Aredhel. She braced her palms against the door and shouted, “Findekáno, if you don’t open this goddamn door _right now_ , I’m going to stand in the hallway and _scream_.”

There was a pause, and then the door was yanked open, so that Aredhel almost fell through. Fingon stood there, dark shadows under his eyes, looking deeply unamused.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“You haven’t answered any of our calls for three days,” snarled Aredhel, regaining her balance and glaring at him. “Mom and dad were frantic – You weren’t picking up, not answering emails or texts, no one’s seen  you – They sent us here to make sure you were still alive!”

“We only just talked them out of calling the campus police,” said Turgon, folding his arms.

“Yes, well, obviously I’m alive,” growled Fingon. “So you can piss off now.” He made to close the door, but Turgon laid a hand against it, blocking it easily.

“No.”

“No?” Fingon’s eyes flashed. “Look, I don’t need my kid brother and sister checking up on me– ”

“Yeah, you do,” said Aredhel. “What _happened_ , Finno?” Her nose crinkled. “Have you been drinking?”

Fingon ground his teeth. “Are you here to lecture me? I’m of age, Irissë.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to drink like you’ve been drinking,” said Aredhel, pushing past him into the room and seizing a nearly empty bottle from the side of the bed. “ _Christ_ , Finno, did you finish all this yourself?”

“No, I bought it like that,” said Fingon, in a feeble attempt at sarcasm as he slumped unsteadily against the wall.

“Well, you’re being cut off,” said Turgon, striding into the room and taking the bottle from Aredhel. He vanished into the bathroom and poured the rest down the sink.

“Hey!” said Fingon, face darkening. “What the fuck, Turno?”

“I’ll reimburse you the two dollars that was worth,” said Turgon tightly, dropping the empty bottle into the trashcan. “How are you even still standing?”

“Pure force of will,” said Fingon, with a rather mad grin, and Aredhel dragged him over to the bed.

“Okay, buddy, time to lie down. Turno, can you grab him some water?”

Fingon flopped back on the bed and dropped an arm over his eyes. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”

“You went off the grid on us,” said Aredhel. “You don’t get to do that, big brother.” And then, in a gentler voice, as Turgon returned with a glass of water, she asked, “Did you and Maitimo break up?”

Fingon gave a low, grating laugh. “ ‘Break up’ would imply something mutual. No, I think the correct terminology is ‘dumped.’ I was dumped, Ireth.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat impatiently. “He left me.”

“Motherfucker,” muttered Aredhel, and laid her hand on Fingon’s knee. “I’m sorry, Finno.”

“Don’t be,” said Fingon. “I shouldn’t have been with him anyway. Not when his father hates me, and fuck, for all we know, tried to have dad killed, and – ” He dragged a hand across his eyes. “ – and I was never sure of myself with him, anyway, I always wondered – wondered why he was with me at all – Because it was too good to believe that he could have loved me, right?” His voice broke again and he buried his face in his hands.

Turgon sat down on the other side of him, and rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You deserve better than that, Finno. You deserve better than him.” And as Fingon made a miserable little noise of protest, Turgon said, “All I mean is - Look, we’re here for you.”

“Yes,” said Aredhel, and curled up at Fingon’s side. “We’re not going to let you go through this alone.”

Turgon stretched out on Fingon’s other side, and Fingon finally let himself break open, lying on the narrow bed between his brother and sister, holding him in silence as he wept.

 

It would be another four months before he saw Maedhros again.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Is someone in there?” 

“Just push it open, I don’t fuckin’ care, hurry up…” 

Gwindor rattled the door of the bathroom and then shoved it open. “Empty. C’mon.” 

He pulled Fingon in behind him and immediately shoved him up against the wall. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting you all night…” 

Fingon groaned and dug his fingers into Gwindor’s back as Gwindor’s hands drifted to his hips. “I couldn’t tell. Did you even lock the door?” 

“What? I don’t know, just – ” Gwindor fumbled with the fly of Fingon’s jeans. “I just want – ”

“Hurry _up_.”

Gwindor succeeded in undoing Fingon’s jeans and slid his hand into them, while Fingon closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall.

 

-

 

Maedhros had let his brothers drag him to the bar that night partially to stop them nagging him, and partially to make sure Celegorm didn’t get thrown out, again, either for misuse of the pool table or for his fake ID. 

“It’ll be fun,” Maglor had said, not quite convincingly, and Celegorm had thrown an arm around his shoulders and said, “If you’re lucky, Nelyo, we’ll find you some hot ass to go home with.” 

“Not interested,” said Maedhros, pulling away.

“Then just come to have a beer with me,” said Maglor quietly. “And ignore Tyelko. But you haven’t been out in ages, Maitimo, please?” 

And so he had. 

But Celegorm had quickly met up with several of his friends from the rugby team and been immediately folded into a raucous game of quarters in the corner. Meanwhile, Maglor had been drawn into conversation by a pretty, green-eyed girl from his music theory class, and they were talking intimately in a booth in the back. Maedhros found himself wishing, in a most irresponsible older brotherly fashion, that more of their brothers were of age, and could join him. Or at least that he’d thought to invite some of his other friends. 

Inevitably, of course, this led to him thinking about the person he most wished to be there; the person he historically had the most fun with in bars.

Fingon. 

Fingon would dare him to order the most absurd drinks on the menu, mostly so he could watch Maedhros’ face as he ordered a ‘screaming orgasm.’ Fingon would find them a quiet corner and talk animatedly about everything from the latest sports stats to the gossip in their siblings’ lives to his plans for the future. Fingon would secure the pool table for them and then proceed to lose abysmally to Maedhros because he would insist on attempting trick shots for every turn. Fingon would put terrible country twenty songs in a row on the jukebox and laugh as Maglor struggled to keep the horror from his face. Fingon would drag Maedhros off to the single stall bathroom and push him against the wall and… 

Maedhros dragged a hand over his eyes. _Not this again_. _It’s been four months,_ _enough already_. 

He set down his almost full beer and glanced around for his brothers. Celegorm was still surrounded by laughing rugby players and Maglor and the green-eyed girl had disappeared to street level to smoke clove cigarettes and make out. Maedhros sighed and stood, making his way to the restrooms. He tried the door, and finding it unlatched, pushed it open. And saw… 

…Fingon leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, hands fisting in the hair of the man kneeling before him. Fingon, his shirt pulled open over his chest, his hair falling into his eyes. Fingon, biting his lip to keep from moaning as the man before him… 

Maedhros couldn’t stop his sharp intake of breath as he stood there, frozen, one hand still on the doorknob. 

Fingon’s eyes flickered open and his head jerked upright, as if he’d seen a ghost. His companion let out a muffled curse, and pulled back. “What–” 

He half turned, and saw Maedhros. “Oh, fuck. Um, sorry, man…occupied.” 

Maedhros didn’t move. Fingon was still staring at him, eyes wide. 

Maedhros knew he should leave, meant to leave, told himself he was going to leave, but – 

But instead he laughed, a low, grating laugh, and said, “I didn’t expect this to be how I saw you for the first time in four months.” 

Fingon pushed himself up from the wall unsteadily, and Maedhros noticed at once how he swayed on his feet. His eyes were a little unfocused too, but his voice was steady as he did up his jeans and said, “What the _fuck_ , Maitimo?” 

Fingon’s companion got to his feet, looking confused. “Uh...You know this guy, Fin?”

“Kinda.” Fingon took a step forward, swayed again and caught himself with a hand on the towel dispenser. 

“Kinda?” Maedhros knew he no right to be angry, but he felt a great surge of fury. “Kinda, Findekáno?” 

“Shit,” said Fingon, and raised a hand to his eyes. 

“What does this mean?” said the other man, eying Maedhros. “Does this mean you don’t want to finish?”

Fingon laughed, and slumped against the wall. “Oh, _fuck_.” He slid down the wall to the floor, and the sudden paleness of his skin had Maedhros starting forward. 

“Findekáno, are you – ” 

“Whoa,” said the other man, putting a hand out. “I’m sorry, but who the fuck do you think you are?” 

“I – It’s – Don’t worry about it, Gwindor,” said Fingon, weakly, and then turned green. “Oh, _fuck._ ” He turned away and retched into the trashcan next to the sink.

 “Christ,” said the other man. 

“Does this mean you don’t want to finish?” Maedhros echoed dangerously, and dropped a heavy hand onto Gwindor’s shoulder. “He’s drunk, you shouldn’t be trying to sleep with him at all. Get out of here.” 

“What right do you – ” 

“Get out,” snarled Maedhros, not caring how unreasonable he was being, and Gwindor, looking up at his face, seemed to decide he didn’t want to push the issue.

“Fine, Jesus, I didn’t want any drama tonight. You’ve got my number, Fin, call if you-” 

Fingon heaved again, and Maedhros pushed the man out of the door. “ _Leave_.” 

He shut the door and latched it and crossed to the sink. “Are you okay?”

“Fuck,” said Fingon, gasping. “Fuck, what are you doing here?”

“What are you doing hooking up drunk in public restrooms?” said Maedhros tightly. He turned on the water and caught some in his cupped hands. “Here, rinse out your mouth, then have something to drink.” 

“You never used to mind me hooking up drunk in public restrooms,” said Fingon hoarsely, as his lips brushed Maedhros’ palm. “Not when it was you I was hooking up with.” 

“I never slept with you when you were this drunk,” said Maedhros sharply. “He was taking advantage of you – ” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” said Fingon, pushing himself up tiredly and looking at once like he was regretting being upright. “I was fine until you barged in. What are you even _doing_ here?” 

“It’s a bar,” said Maedhros. “I came here to hang out with my brothers and drink, like one does.”

“Well, I thought I’d come here and get fucked in the bathroom, like one does,” said Fingon, and slumped down on the toilet. “Thanks for spoiling that one.” 

“You’re hardly in a state – ” 

Fingon buried his face in his hands. “Stop.” 

“You should – ” 

“ _Stop_.” Fingon raised his face and glared at Maedhros. “You don’t get to worry about me anymore. You don’t get to tell me what to do – not that you ever did. You dumped me, Maitimo, and if I want to fuck around, that’s my business.” 

Maedhros opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You’re right.” 

He leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.” He closed his eyes. “I just didn’t expect – I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Fingon groaned. “Now you’re being reasonable? Fuck, Mae. Why can’t you just let me hate you?” 

“I’m sorry,” said Maedhros again. “Look, seriously, are you okay? Do you need help getting home?” 

“ ‘m fine,” said Fingon, unconvincingly as he pushed himself to his feet once more. “ ‘m – oh, shit.” He wobbled and put out a hand to catch himself against the wall, but Maedhros was quicker. He caught Fingon around the waist, looping Fingon’s arm over his shoulders. 

“All right. I’m going to walk you home.” 

“Okay,” mumbled Fingon. He leaned heavily against Maedhros’ side, and Maedhros ignored the way his heart sped up at the contact. _Now is not the time_. 

Instead he steered them both out of the bathroom and out the back door of the bar onto the street. “Hang on,” he said, propping Fingon against a streetlamp. “Let me just text my brothers that I’m leaving.”

“Sorry to ruin your night,” said Fingon, wrapping an arm around the light post. 

“Sorry to ruin yours,” said Maedhros, and pulled out his phone. 

_I’m heading out. See you in the morning._

“Guess we’re even, huh?” Fingon tilted his head back to look at the sky. “Look, you can almost see stars.” 

Maedhros looked up. Fingon was right. “Let’s go.”

 

He kept an arm around Fingon’s waist as they made their way back to campus. Fingon seemed more clear-headed as they walked, but he didn’t try to shrug off Maedhros’ supporting arm. He did seem to get more and more exhausted as they approached his dorm, his head drooping onto Maedhros’ shoulder. 

“Findekáno,” said Maedhros, nudging him. “We need your card to get in.” 

“Hm? Oh right.” Fingon pulled himself up with an effort and fumbled for his wallet. “It’s – I think it’s in here.”

Sighing, Maedhros took the wallet from him and pressed the whole thing against the card reader. It beeped and flashed green, the door clicking open. Maedhros pushed through, navigating Fingon through the doors. 

“Here’s your room. Where are your keys?”

“Pocket,” said Fingon, and yawned, slumping against him. Maedhros waited, but Fingon didn’t seem inclined to move, so he blew out a breath and fumbled lightly at Fingon’s pockets, managing to extract the keys at last. 

“Okay, we’re here.” Maedhros steered Fingon in and deposited him on the bed. “Best to sleep it off, I think. Let me get you some water.” 

“Thanks,” mumbled Fingon, stretching out on the bed and wrapping an arm around his pillow as his eyes closed. 

Maedhros set the water by the side of the bed and gazed down at Fingon. “Finno, you didn’t take your shoes off.” 

“Hm?” 

Maedhros shook his head and sat on the foot of the bed to tug off Fingon’s shoes. When he was done, he made to cover Fingon with the blanket, but Fingon opened his eyes again and mumbled, “Hang on. Clothes.” He pulled his shirt over his head and shucked his jeans to the floor before collapsing back to the bed. Maedhros stood and made to leave, but Fingon caught his hand. 

“You should stay.” 

Maedhros looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. ” 

“I don’t mean anything like that,” said Fingon. “I just don’t want – ” He grimaced. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“You’ve been drinking...” 

“I’m sober enough to know what I’m asking, drunk enough that I don’t want to be alone.” Fingon smiled crookedly. “Please, just – You should stay.” 

 _Leave_ , came the familiar whisper in his mind. 

Maedhros had never been very good at listening to it.

  

 _This damn bed_ , he thought, as he slid into it. ‘Extra-long’, they called it, but still his feet always pressed against the end, and it was so narrow that they couldn’t lie comfortably side-by-side. Instead, Maedhros fit himself along Fingon’s back, and instinctively wound an arm around his waist, pulling their hips snugly together. Fingon sighed and closed his eyes. 

“Your feet are cold,” he mumbled, like he always did. 

“Hush,” said Maedhros. “Go to sleep.”

 

-

 

Waking with Fingon in his arms was so familiar that it took Maedhros a while to realize why he felt so guilty. 

 _Because you broke up with him_ , the voice reminded him. _Because you shouldn’t be here._

He pulled back sharply before his sleep-addled brain could follow through on pressing a lazy kiss to the back of Fingon’s neck. 

Fingon stirred, and groaned. “Fuck. My head…” He rolled over, and his eyes widened as they lit on Maedhros. 

“Oh.” 

“Nothing happened,” said Maedhros quickly. 

Fingon nodded slowly. “I…I remember.” 

“I should go,” said Maedhros, sitting up, and feeling proud that he’d had the self control to keep himself more or less clothed the night before – especially since Fingon was naked but for his boxers. 

He slid out of bed and grabbed his jeans. “Make sure you drink some water and get something to eat,” he said, over his shoulder. “It’ll help the hangover.” 

“Classic Maitimo,” said Fingon, rolling his eyes, and then wincing. “Ow.” 

“Right.” Maedhros fumbled for his shoes and pulled them on. 

Fingon was watching him from the bed. “Thanks for…walking me home last night,” he said quietly. Maedhros didn’t let himself raise his eyes. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, and, “I should go.” 

So he did.

 

-

 

At around one pm, when he had pulled out his phone for the fiftieth time, looked at it, and done nothing, he finally cursed himself and sent a text to Fingon. 

 _How’s the hangover?_

He regretted it as soon as it sent, but that didn’t stop the jolt of excitement when the response came, just a few minutes later.

_i’m surviving. you left your jacket here, btw_

Maedhros sucked in a breath. He’d left his _jacket_ … That seemed unlike him. But then, he’d been in a rush this morning, and distracted, and… 

 _You did it on purpose_ , the cold little voice in his head told him. He ignored it. 

_When would be a good time for me to swing by and get it?_

_whenever. i’m around all day._

 He lasted only an hour before he was standing once again outside Fingon’s dorm room. He knocked. 

 _Just get your jacket and go_ , his brain chastened, but when the door opened, the voice blew away like a whisper in the wind. 

Fingon looked as he always had, presumably, but something about the way his white tee-shirt fit his shoulders, and the set of his jeans on his hips, and the way his hair fell into his eyes, and the way he was _looking_ at Maedhros… 

Maedhros stepped through the door and shut it firmly behind him. 

“Your jacket’s on the - ” Fingon began, before Maedhros kissed him. 

If he’d worried that Fingon would push him away, those worries evaporated almost instantly. Fingon wound his arms around his neck and kissed him back fiercely, rising up on his toes so they could sway together. Maedhros laid one hand against Fingon’s lower back, drawing him closer, and Fingon made a noise and tugged lightly on Maedhros’ hair, pulling him into a deeper kiss. 

When they finally broke apart, Fingon looked dazed. “Your jacket,” he started to say, but Maedhros whispered, “Fuck the jacket,” and kissed him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0\. Lots of sex, for a break-up story.

It was another blue sky morning; another morning of blissful guilt; another morning that saw Maedhros waking up in his ex-boyfriend’s bed. 

Fingon murmured in his sleep as Maedhros stretched, and tucked his face against the hollow of Maedhros’ shoulder. Any desire to leave crumbled, and Maedhros closed his eyes, burying his nose in Fingon’s dark curls and letting his body relax into the comfort of the bed and the warm body at his side. 

Soon, Fingon would be waking, and that meant either clipped, forced casual conversation before Maedhros slipped out – where they didn’t talk about the night before, or acknowledge that they’d woken in each other’s arms – or Fingon would wake and look up at him with speculative blue eyes, and… 

Fingon shifted, rolling over to press his body against Maedhros’ side, and Maedhros knew what kind of morning it would be. He could feel Fingon’s hard length pressed against his hip, and his own desire stirred instantly. 

“Morning,” murmured Fingon, voice low and sleepy. “Mmm. You feel nice.” 

He turned his head to nuzzle into Maedhros’ neck and draped a leg over Maedhros’ waist, rubbing himself slowly against Maedhros’ thigh. 

Maedhros swallowed a groan and rolled over to press Fingon into the mattress, Fingon’s legs parting easily so they could slide together. Fingon was warm and sleepy and pliable in the morning, and Maedhros wanted all of him, all of that bare, yielding flesh, all of the noises he could drag from Fingon's lips; he wanted to taste and touch and take. They were still naked from the night before, and they pushed against each other eagerly as their mouths met. 

 _Why should we ever try to talk?_ Maedhros thought, as Fingon’s hand slid between them to stroke him to full hardness and Maedhros slid his hands up Fingon’s thighs to grip his ass. _If we talk, we’ll only end up in the same arguments, the same circular discussion, and we’ll break – whatever this is._ The perfect feeling of Fingon beneath him, Fingon’s hands on his cock, Fingon’s lips at his throat, Fingon’s gasps in his ear. _I can’t give this up._

 

-

 

Another morning; that narrow bed; that fading guilt. 

Maedhros shot a look at the clock and made to get up, but strong arms pulled him back down. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I have work in just over an hour,” said Maedhros, as Fingon ran his hands over his chest. “Don’t you have class?” 

“Not until ten,” said Fingon, lowering his lips to Maedhros’ shoulder. “C’mon, it won’t take me long. One for the road…” 

Maedhros let out a breath as Fingon’s hand made its way between his legs. He no longer pretended that it took any persuasion to get him to linger. “Fine.” 

Fingon grinned and pulled himself atop Maedhros’ hips, his hair falling forward into his eyes as he bent low to kiss him. “An hour, you said? I can make that happen, easy.”

 

- 

 

Maedhros was breathing hard as Fingon rocked forward against him, his eyes closing and his fingers tightening in Fingon’s flesh. “Ah – I’m almost there…” 

“Yeah,” breathed Fingon, “Yeah, come with me…” 

Maedhros arched his head back against the pillows, gasping, and was right on the brink, falling rapidly towards the edge of pleasure, when the knock came.

Fingon froze against him. “Shh.” 

Maedhros stilled, though it was almost physically painful to keep himself from rolling his hips up into the tight grip of Fingon’s hand.

The knock came again. 

“They’ll go away if they think I’m not here,” whispered Fingon. “Wait – ” 

“Findekáno?” A familiar voice rang out and Fingon cursed silently. “Finno, are you there? I know Turukáno dropped off the materials I need for my next class, I just need to run in and get them from you.” 

“Fuck,” whispered Fingon. “I forgot.” He rolled off Maedhros and hastily pulled on some boxers as Maedhros tried not to groan at the loss of sensation. He pulled the sheets haphazardly up to his waist, wondering briefly if he should drop out of sight behind the bed before deciding he was not that far gone. 

Fingon flipped through some papers on his desk and seized a bundle before hurrying to the door, tripping over discarded clothes as he went.  He pulled the door open a crack and stuck his head out. “Hey, Ingoldo, here’s the stuff. Cheers.” 

He made to shut the door again but Finrod stuck his foot into the crack. “Hang on. This doesn’t look like enough.” He rifled through the papers. “No, there’s at least one file missing. Can I come in?” 

“Just describe it to me and I'll look for it,” said Fingon firmly, holding the door so Finrod couldn’t push through. 

“Your desk’s a mess, just let me look. I’ll find it in a sec and then be out of your hair.” 

Fingon put a hand against the doorframe, still blocking Finrod’s way. “Now _really_ isn’t a good time.”

“Oh come _on,_ Finno, my class is in twenty minutes!” said Finrod frantically. “I’ll find the extra printouts in a flash, I promise, just let me–” 

“Look,” hissed Fingon. “I’m telling you–” 

Finrod paused, apparently only just now taking in Fingon’s state of undress. “ _Oh_. I see. Do you have someone in there with you?” 

“Um…” 

Finrod leaned close and whispered. “Is it that guy you’ve been seeing? Whatshisname, the underclassman?” 

“No,” said Fingon too quickly, shooting a look over his shoulder at Maedhros. “I mean, maybe. Could you just – ” 

Finrod checked his watch again and cursed. “I _need_ these, Finno. I’m coming in, I promise I won’t look.” He pushed past Fingon’s arm and raised his book bag in front of his eyes theatrically, announcing, “Sorry, guest of Fingon, I won’t look, so sorry for the intrusion, I’ll just be a moment…” He fumbled his way to the desk and shuffled through the papers until he gave a cry of triumph and seized a folder. “I _knew_ there was something missing. Perfect.” He turned to go, and didn’t quite shield his eyes in time. His eyes flickered ever so briefly across the bed. And Maedhros. 

He paused, shocked, his bag half raised in front of him. 

“Hey, Ingoldo,” said Maedhros, resignedly.

Fingon groaned and leaned back against the wall. 

Finrod’s mouth dropped open. “Wh – Maitimo! What are you - Sorry, I didn’t know you two were back together. I would have – Oh.” He fell silent abruptly as Fingon twitched one shoulder painfully and Maedhros shook his head. 

“Okay…” Finrod said slowly. “I’ll just…just be going then. Thanks for hanging onto these for me.” He made his way to the door, carefully averting his eyes from Maedhros. 

Fingon stopped him before he left. “Don’t tell Turno, okay?” he said quietly. “Or – anyone, really.” 

Finrod’s eyes flicked to Maedhros again, and then back to Fingon. “I won’t.” And as Fingon let out a sigh he leaned close and hissed, “I’m going to have some questions for you, though!” Then he turned and disappeared through the door. 

 

- 

 

Fingon raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, that was fun.” 

Maedhros was planning on saying something else entirely, so he was rather surprised when what came out of his mouth was, “ ‘That guy you’ve been seeing’?” 

Fingon's head turned slowly. “I’m sorry…What did you say?” 

“You’re seeing someone?” 

“You have got to be joking.” There was absolutely no humor in Fingon's expression.

 _Stop talking_ , hissed the voice in Maedhros’ head, but he ignored it. “Was this ‘guy you’ve been seeing’ the same one I saw blowing you in the bathroom?” 

Fingon’s eyes blazed. “I can’t _believe_ you have the nerve to ask me that. This is the first question you ask after we’ve been fucking around for weeks? We’ve been sleeping together for all this time, and we haven’t talked _once_ about anything real. And _now_ you ask me about my sex life outside of you. What business is it of yours?” 

Maedhros didn’t answer. 

Fingon crossed his arms. “For the record, and not that it matters, but it’s _not_ the same guy.” 

“Oh, good,” said Maedhros, trying not to show how much this information sent cold spiraling through him. “I’m glad there are multiple guys in your life, then. Is one for dating, one for screwing?” 

Fingon was staring at him as if he’d never really seen him before. Maedhros couldn’t quite believe himself, or the words coming out of his mouth. But he couldn’t stop. “What does that make me?” 

“Nothing,” said Fingon, and his voice was low but venomous. “It makes you _nothing_ , Maitimo, so get out.” 

“You – ” 

“ _Get out_.” Fingon clenched his fists. “You have no right to ask me – After all this, after all you’ve fucking put me through – How dare you make me feel guilty?” 

Maedhros felt shame rush through him, but he bit his lip and said nothing. 

“I get it,” said Fingon, coming over to him. “I _get_ it. You want to have it all, don’t you? You don’t want to date me, you don’t want to _love_ me, fuck no, but you still want to _have_ me.” He pushed lightly against Maedhros’ shoulder. “Isn’t that right? Isn’t that why you’ve been coming over here and fucking me? Never at your place, oh no, wouldn’t want your brothers to find out, would you?” 

Fingon smiled a mad smile and leaned close. “You want to fuck me and you want me for yourself – Because you’ll be _damned_ if I try to move on; you'll be damned if you have to _share_ me. But when it gets difficult?” Fingon held up his hands. “You’re out, you’re free and clear - because it’s not like we’re in a relationship, are we? _Are we?_ ” 

Maedhros turned his face away, ashamed and angry. 

“Look at me, Maitimo,” snarled Fingon. “Look at me, you twisted, manipulative motherfucker, and tell me that’s not _exactly_ how it is.” 

“I shouldn’t have,” Maedhros began, his voice almost a whisper, and Fingon laughed wildly. 

“Shouldn’t have! There are so many fucking things you shouldn’t have done.” He seized Maedhros’ shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. “You shouldn’t have _left_ me, you asshole.” His voice broke. 

“No,” said Maedhros. “I shouldn’t have loved you in the first place.” 

Fingon released him at that and reeled back like he’d been struck. “ _God_.” He wrapped his arms around himself as if in pain, and Maedhros suddenly remembered how he had felt, four months ago, standing in the hallway, gutted… 

“You really know how to make it hurt, don’t you?” Fingon raised a ravaged face to Maedhros, and Maedhros flinched back at the poison in his eyes. “Get out, Maitimo. _Leave_. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to see you ever again, so just fuck off. You’ve got what you wanted, okay? We’re _over_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Chapters 1 and 3 have now been [illustrated](http://jul-likes-magpies.tumblr.com/post/129840837155/closer-to-the-edge) by the incomparable [Jules](http://jul-likes-magpies.tumblr.com/). Some nsfw at the link, but you MUST see her amazing illustrations!


	4. Chapter 4

Fingon was sitting alone in the dining hall, poking moodily at a slice of pizza, when someone plunked a tray down next to him and said lightly, “Hello, friend.” 

He looked up as Finrod sat down next to him, a bowl piled high with what looked like the entire contents of the salad bar on his tray. 

“Hey, Ingoldo,” he said dully. 

Finrod shook out his napkin busily and loaded his fork with greens. “So, you owe me some answers, I think.” 

“Owe?” Fingon’s mouth twisted at the words. “Christ, am I tired of hearing about what I _owe_ people…” 

Finrod looked immediately distressed and laid a hand on Fingon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant, I was wondering about…this morning. And of course I’ll keep it to myself even if you don’t want to tell me anything, though I have to admit I am curious. But just say the word and I’ll butt out.” 

Fingon put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Ingoldo. I’m not angry at you. It’s been kind of a rough day.” 

“Oh?” Finrod looked like he was carefully holding himself back from asking more. 

Fingon sighed and raised his head. “Okay. You want the short story?” 

“Whatever you’d like,” said Finrod. “Long story, short story, sonnet, haiku…” 

Fingon laughed a little. “Fine. Short story it is. Maitimo and I started sleeping together again. How's that?"

"Not even a complete haiku," said Finrod. "Maybe you could elaborate, just a tad?"

Fingon took a deep breath. "Okay. So we started sleeping together again. But it was all strictly on the dl, and we never talked about what it meant, or why we were doing it – fuck, or even what we’d been up to in the past four months. Nothing. Just…sex. And I _knew_ it couldn’t last, because of course it couldn’t, right? He’s only comfortable being with me when we could pretend we weren’t together. He doesn’t actually want to _be_ with me.” He swallowed and stared at his plate. “He’s made that much clear. Which makes it all the more obnoxious when he has the gall to get _pissy_ over the fact that I’ve been dating around. And sleeping around.” 

“Right,” said Finrod slowly, “like that guy you’ve been – ” His eyes widened suddenly and he looked horrified. “Oh no. Findekáno – was it what I said this morning that sparked this?” 

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it,” said Fingon bleakly. “It’s good, really. It was good for me to hear him react like that – It made it really clear that I shouldn’t fucking be with him.” His face twisted, and Finrod patted him on the arm. 

“That…that really sucks.” He seemed to realize this was wildly insufficient, and cast around for something more to say. “Look, I think you should try to move on, if you can. I liked the sound of that boy you went out with – What was his name? Gelmir?” 

“Gwindor,” said Fingon, then frowned. “No, wait. That’s the other – Oh, Christ.” He groaned and stretched forward on the table, burying his face in his arms. 

“What?” said Finrod, confused. “Did you forget his name?”

“It’s just easy to mix them up,” said Fingon, into his arms. “I’m in trouble, Ingo.” 

“Why?”

“Because I’m dating one brother and sleeping with the other.” 

Finrod choked on a bean sprout and coughed for a while before answering. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” 

Fingon raised his face from his arms, looking embarrassed. “The one I told you about, the sweet sophomore kid I’ve gone out with a couple times – that’s Gelmir. But he’s got this older brother who I met by accident at a party one night, and he’s kinda…become my fuck-buddy?” 

“Oh, _Finno_.” Finrod sighed. “Do they know about each other?” 

Fingon reddened further. “No?” 

“ _Finno_.” 

“Look, I didn’t know they were brothers at first!” Fingon burst out. “It was an accident – I saw a picture when I was at Gwindor’s place – I’ve never even slept with Gelmir. I just kissed him a couple times, but I think he’s falling for me, and meanwhile my main plan for weekends these days has been getting drunk and fooling around with his brother…” 

“Except for recently, when you’ve been fooling around with Maitimo,” said Finrod shrewdly. “Oh, goodness.” He sighed and propped his chin in his hands, food quite forgotten. “Dating after a break-up can be good. Sleeping around after a break-up can be good. But doing both, simultaneously, with two brothers…are you _asking_ for more drama?” 

“No!” 

“Hmm,” said Finrod, spinning a green bean between his fingers. 

“I just wanted a bit of distraction,” said Fingon. “Nothing _serious_. Ah, fuck, I have to end it, don’t I?” 

“With at least one of them,” said Finrod. “And you should tell them the truth, too. Which means…you’ll likely be effectively ending it with both of them.” 

“Great,” muttered Fingon. “That’s just what I wanted. To be the bad guy in this mess. Am I being as bad as Maitimo?”

Finrod stayed diplomatically silent.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Fingon. "They deserve better, I know. But didn't  _I_ deserve better, too?"

“You _do_ deserve better,” said Finrod, and paused, looking conflicted. “Even though I did always think you and Maitimo made a great pair. You balanced each other so well, and were so – ” 

“YOU'RE NOT HELPING.” 

“Sorry,” said Finrod hastily. “Nelyo’s been horribly unfair to you. He clearly still wants you, but can’t figure out how to have you and maintain his perception of loyalty to his father, so he tries to push you away, but not too far, and…” 

“Yes, I get it, thank you, Ingo,” said Fingon grumpily. 

Finrod smiled apologetically at him. “Anything I can do?” 

“Want to break up with two different guys for me?”

 

-

 

“Maitimo, where have you been?” Maglor was standing outside Maedhros’ bedroom, arms folded, looking impatient and, it had to be said, rather like their mother when she was annoyed. 

“I was at work,” said Maedhros shortly, turning from the door to rummage in his bureau for clean clothes. 

“I mean before that.” 

“I was here.” 

“No, you weren’t.” Maglor tapped his foot. “You haven’t spent more than a handful of nights here for the past two weeks. Where have you been?” 

“With…friends.” Maedhros pulled a sweatshirt over his head, which meant that he could pretend to miss the deeply skeptical look Maglor was shooting him. 

“Sure. Are you seeing someone?” 

“What? No!” Maedhros glared at his brother.

Maglor sighed. “Curvo's right; you are so bad at this. Come on, that would have been a good cover-up: You’re seeing someone new, you’ve been spending your nights at their place…I mean, you’d have to make up a name at some point, but you’re smart, you’d figure something out.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You’re seeing Findekáno again, aren’t you.” Though it was phrased as such, it clearly wasn’t a question. 

Maedhros tightened his hands until his fingernails cut into his palms. “ _No._ ” 

“Fine. You’re _sleeping_ with Findekáno again.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Knock it off,” said Maglor, and his voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “You forget how well I know you, Nelyo. If you’re spending nights away from home it’s because you’re sleeping with someone, and if you’re sleeping with someone and not telling me about it, it’s because it’s someone you think I’d disapprove of. It’s Findekáno.” 

“Well,” said Maedhros, tugging his hood up over his hair, and resisting the urge to pull it over his face entirely, “you’ll be happy to hear, then, that it’s over. I won’t be sleeping with him anymore. He’s made that very clear.” 

“Oh, Maitimo,” said Maglor, and Maedhros was surprised to see him look so anxious. “What did you do?”

 

-

 

“I don’t understand why you care,” said Maedhros, some time later, as Maglor sighed and lay back on his bed. “Don’t you think I shouldn’t be with him?” 

“No,” said Maglor, as Maedhros stared at him. “I mean, I understand your conflict, and why you think this somehow has something to do with dad, but… Maitimo, you _love_ him. I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you’re with him. Who cares what dad thinks? Deep down, even he just wants you to be happy, and to be loved.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“I – ” Maglor struggled for a moment. “I wasn’t unhappy that you were sleeping with Finno again. I was hoping this meant you were getting back together.” 

“What?” 

“I want you to be happy,” said Maglor, patiently. “He makes you happy. He’s good for you. I think you should be together.” 

Maedhros was shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me now…” 

“…now that you’ve gone and screwed it up,” said Maglor, and Maedhros looked up at the tone in his voice. 

“What – You’re actually pissed at me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Maglor scowled at him. “What an idiot move. Of course he’s been seeing other guys, are you blind? He’s young and he’s gorgeous – ” Maedhros made a shocked noise and Maglor waved impatiently at him, “Don’t look so stunned, anyone with eyes can see he’s beautiful – and you broke his heart. Of course he’s going to look for a rebound. Where do you think you get off, badgering him about his sex life when you’ve been treating him like a glorified booty call?” 

“I,” Maedhros trailed off, stricken. “I don’t know. I…got jealous, I guess.”

“What is with this family and self-sabotage?” muttered Maglor. “No wonder he threw you out.” He sat up and crossed his legs in a businesslike manner. “Look, do you love him? Do you want to be with him? Don’t say anything about ‘should’ – just answer the question.” 

“Yes,” said Maedhros, feeling a weight lift from his chest as he said it. The truth, finally. “Yes, I love him. Yes, I want…I wish I could be with him.” 

“Then you need to go fix things _now_ ,” growled Maglor. “Before it’s too late, you fool.” 

“How do I fix things?” asked Maedhros helplessly. “And what about – what about all the reasons we broke up in the first place?” 

“Throw them out the window,” said Maglor promptly. “They were stupid reasons. Dad will get over it, eventually. You’re a grown man, in theory, at least. You can be with whomever you want. As for fixing things…just be honest, and not emotionally constipated for once. I know this will be difficult for you – ” 

“Hey,” said Maedhros, feeling he should be offended, but Maglor ignored him. 

“ – but give it a try. And _apologize._ Apologize _a lot._ ” 

“Right,” said Maedhros, and grabbed his keys.


	5. Chapter 5

He’d been waiting outside Fingon’s door for nearly an hour before Fingon appeared at the end of the hallway, rummaging in his bag for his keys. He looked up and froze when he saw Maedhros standing there. 

“Findekáno,” said Maedhros quickly, “I – ” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to apologize to you.” 

Fingon laughed. “Are you kidding me?” 

“No. I’m here to apologize, and…to talk. If you’ll listen. I know I don’t deserve that, but…” 

“You’re amazing, you really are. What part of _I don’t want to see you again_ is so hard to understand?” 

“But – ”

“Go away, Nelyo,” said Fingon brusquely, pushing past him and unlocking his door. “I’m not interested in hearing your spiel.” 

“Five minutes,” said Maedhros desperately. “Please, just let me in for five minutes.” 

“Every time I let you in I end up doing something I shouldn’t.” Fingon folded his arms. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I’ll say it out here,” said Maedhros. “ _Please_ , Finno.”

Fingon looked like he was struggling with himself, but he finally relented. He pushed the door open. “Fine, five minutes. You might as well come inside; I don’t want my whole floor listening in.” 

Maedhros followed him in, and Fingon turned almost at once, arms crossed again. “Okay, say your bit. Clock starts now.” 

Maedhros let out his breath in a rush. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for so many things, Findekáno. I’m sorry about this morning. I said – I said stupid, wrong things, and I was being jealous and petty and cruel.” 

He swallowed. “And I’m sorry for the past two weeks. For sleeping with you and not...not being clear about my intentions, or even acknowledging what was going on. I’m sorry if I made you feel used. I was being cowardly, and selfish, and…I had no right. Not to say what I did, and not to treat you like that.” 

“Well,” said Fingon, his arms still tight over his chest. “That’s true enough.” 

“I’m sorry for the past four months,” Maedhros whispered. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry for leaving you, Findekáno, I’m sorry for lying to you.” 

“Lying to me?” 

“For ever making you think I didn’t love you,” said Maedhros, and closed his eyes briefly. “I loved you then, and I love you now. I never stopped. I never should have ended things with you, and I’m…sorry.” The word felt hopelessly insufficient. 

Fingon was looking at him, his eyes bright and angry. Maedhros felt a great upwelling of despair. It felt wrong to be standing like this, looming over Fingon, and so he dropped to his knees. 

“What are you doing?” Fingon demanded, looking even more upset. “Maitimo…” 

“I’m sorry,” Maedhros said, and bowed his head. “I love you, Finno, I love you, and I never should have left.” 

Fingon pulled in a pained breath. “So what, Maitimo? What do you _want_?” 

“I want you back in my life,” said Maedhros, raising his head. “In…any way. I miss you so much. I would take anything you could give me. Your friendship, if that’s all you can offer. I – I miss having you as a friend.” His voice cracked. “And if...if you could bring yourself to consider it, more.” 

He lowered his head again, exhausted and afraid, not able to bear rejection in Fingon’s face. Instead, he felt Fingon drop to the ground beside him.

“Maitimo,” Fingon said wearily, and he looked up. Fingon was sitting hunched before him. “If I were to accept that you’re sorry, if I were to let you back in my life… How could I ever trust you again? It took us so long to get together, so long for me to _know_ that you actually cared, and then you blindsided me and fucking destroyed me. How can I trust you not to do it again? How can I trust you not to _treat_ me like that again?” 

A great spasm of pain shook Maedhros, and he resisted the urge to seize Fingon’s hand and cling to it. “You can’t,” he said at last. “I’ve hurt you, so of course…Of course I can’t regain that trust completely. But I can only promise you,” he clenched his hands together to keep himself from reaching for Fingon, “I promise you I’m all in, this time. I don’t care about my father, or yours, or any of it. I love you, and I can’t stand not having you in my life.” 

Fingon tried to speak, but could only manage a miserable, choked off groan. Maedhros felt himself leaning forward, desperate. 

“I…I can’t think,” said Fingon, and brought his hands to his face. “Not with you so close.” 

Maedhros pulled back immediately. “I can leave,” he said, and got to his feet, feeling as stiff and ungainly as an old man. “I can give you space.” 

Fingon nodded into his hands. “I think that’s for the best.” 

“I understand,” said Maedhros, and turned to leave, even though every atom in his body ached to stay. As he turned, a hand caught his wrist. 

Fingon didn’t look up, but his fingers wrapped tight around Maedhros’ forearm, and Maedhros turned his hand so he could grip Fingon’s wrist in turn. They stayed like that in silence for a moment, before Maedhros bent, and, taking Fingon’s hand between his own, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and left, Fingon still crouched on the floor, his hand cradled to his chest.

 

-

 

If you had asked Maedhros before that week who was the most impatient of Fëanor’s sons, he would have said Celegorm. Or possibly Caranthir – Even Maglor could was prone to spates of antsiness that would drive his brothers crazy with his constant foot tapping and finger drumming. Maedhros could always make himself wait. He had traditionally been the one in charge of keeping his brothers from pulling themselves to pieces in anticipation on Christmas Eve. Maedhros was patient. 

But that was before he spent a week waiting to hear if Fingon would take him back. 

He pulled out his phone to check for messages and missed calls so frequently that he nearly gave himself a repetitive strain injury. He paced so many laps of the house that Maglor started using his footsteps up and down the hallway as a sort of metronome, and ended up writing an exasperated piece for violin called _Eulogy for a brother’s sanity_. 

“Ha ha,” he’d said to Maglor, as Maglor leaned in the doorway and played it for him, and Maglor had said, “It’s not a joke,” and thrown resin at Maedhros’ head. 

The song had an annoyingly repetitive refrain that stuck in Maedhros’ head for days. 

He had work that week, but by the end of each day remembered none of it. He was distracted and absentminded, making beginner’s mistakes as his mind drifted far away from his tasks. 

He wanted to call Fingon so badly it was a physical ache, but he forced himself to resist. _The least you can do is give him some time_ , said a reasonable voice in his head. It sounded a lot like Maglor, especially when it added _, Jackass._  

 _I’m losing my mind_ , Maedhros thought, as he paced the perimeter of the house, twirling his phone over and over in his hands.

“No,” came Celegorm’s irritated voice from in front of the television, and Maedhros blushed as he realized he’d spoken aloud, “You’re just being a drama queen. Sit the fuck down and watch the game, Nelyo.” 

“I don’t follow football,” said Maedhros, but he sat. Celegorm glanced over at him, taking in his tense face and how his hair was standing on end from how many times he’d run his fingers through it, and seemed to take pity on him. He changed the channel. “Fine. This suit you better?” 

Maedhros frowned at the screen, distracted. “ _Say Yes to the Dress_?” 

“What?” Celegorm turned a solicitous gaze on his brother. “Will it get too emotional for you?” 

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” said Maedhros, getting to his feet again.

“It’s midnight,” Celegorm called, exasperated, but Maedhros had already left. “Nelyo – Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He turned back to the TV and whistled. “Oh shit, girl, don’t try that one on. Not with your budget.”

 

-

 

Maglor caught up with Maedhros just around the block, and walked silently with him for a while, humming lightly to himself. “You’ll hear from him eventually,” he said at last, and Maedhros sighed. 

“I don’t know.” 

Maglor rolled his eyes. “He’s not going to drop off the face of the earth. You’ll know, sooner or later.” 

“Exactly,” said Maedhros, and raised agonized eyes to Maglor’s face. “And what if he tells me he never wants to see me again?” 

“Then you’ll just have to live with that,” said Maglor promptly. “You have to accept that as a possibility, given how you treated him. In the meantime…” He tugged Maedhros’ elbow back up the walk to their house; they’d circled the block. “Take up jogging, or knitting, or something. You’re driving everyone up the wall.”

 

-

 

It was Friday night, and Celegorm and Maglor were in the living room, partially playing cards and partially arguing about what music to listen to. 

“Look, I’ve got my practicum on Monday, the least I can do, if I’m not studying, is to listen to some of the material.”

“If I have to listen to that shrieky nonsense one more time, I’m won’t be answerable for what I do to the stereo. Can we compromise with Tom Petty?” 

“How is that a compromise?” 

“Fine, not a compromise, a concession. Just – ” Celegorm broke off. “Was that the door?” 

“I’ll get it.” Maglor got to his feet and went to the entryway, as the knock came again.

Maglor answered the door at the third knock. When he pulled it open to reveal Fingon standing on the front step, he took a breath. “Oh.” 

“Who is it?” called Celegorm from the living room.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Maglor, still staring at Fingon. 

“Is Maitimo here?” Fingon asked, in a low voice. 

“Yes,” said Maglor. “He’s upstairs.” He stood to the side and gestured, his grey eyes wide.

“Thanks,” murmured Fingon, and slipped past him. 

Celegorm got up and joined Maglor in the front hallway. “Was that - ?” 

“Sh.”

 

-

 

Fingon knocked once before pulling the door open, and Maedhros looked up from his bed, where he’d been reading. He dropped the book at once and swung his legs to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed, his face tense. 

“Findekáno.”

“Yeah.” Fingon shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Maedhros clasped his hands together in front of him. “I’m glad you’re here. How are you doing? I mean. How’s your week been?” _Stop babbling._ “Did you – ”

“Yes,” said Fingon, and crossed the room. Without preamble, he took Maedhros’ face between his hands, gazed at him a moment, then bent and kissed him. 

Maedhros let out a noise like a sob, and wrapped his arms around Fingon’s waist, pulling him close. Fingon sank to his knees in front the bed, kneeling before Maedhros. 

“I’m here,” he said at last, as they broke apart. “I’m…willing to try this.” He wound his arms around Maedhros’ waist and laid his head in Maedhros’ lap, unable to say more. 

“Findekáno,” whispered Maedhros, stroking a hand through his hair. “Findekáno, I–” 

“I’m not saying I trust you,” said Fingon, turning his face into Maedhros’ stomach. “Or even forgive you, fully. But I’m going to try.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” Maedhros bent and kissed Fingon’s dark head. “And more than I deserve.”

“True,” mumbled Fingon. He sighed and tightened his arms around Maedhros’ waist, seeming unwilling to let him go. “I almost called you a dozen times this week, but…” 

“It’s okay,” said Maedhros, carding his fingers through Fingon’s curly hair. “It doesn’t matter. I probably would have had a heart attack if my phone rang, anyway. I was so scared…” 

“Did you actually think I wouldn’t come back?” 

Maedhros stared at him, astonished. “Yes.” 

Fingon smiled. “You have more faith in my strength of will than I do, then.” 

“I don’t want you to have come back just because – ” 

“I came back because I love you, Maitimo,” said Fingon simply. “Though I won’t lie, I also wanted to punch you in the face. But, you know, it’s such a nice face, that I decided…” 

“ _Finno_.” 

Fingon laughed, and Maedhros’ heart felt even fuller than before. “I’ll do everything I can to be worthy of you,” he said, and Fingon shook his head, murmuring, “Sap,” and kissed him. 

Maedhros kissed him back, and was just about to pull him into his lap when he looked up sharply at the noise from the other side of the door. 

“What?” 

Maedhros’ eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. Gently disentangling himself from Fingon’s arms, he strode across the room and pulled the door open, nearly sending Maglor and Celegorm tumbling into him. 

“Um, sorry,” said Maglor, flushing deep red. “It was Tyelko, he wouldn’t – ” 

“Sure, pass the buck,” said Celegorm, picking himself up and leaning casually against the hallway wall. “Don’t believe a word he says, Nelyo, it was as much him as me.”

“Anyway,” said Maglor, glaring at Celegorm, “we’ll be going now, but – ” He shot a look at Fingon, who was sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed, a rueful smile on his face, “ – it’s good to see you again, Findekáno.” 

He slipped down the hall, and gestured for Celegorm to follow.

Celegorm lingered a moment, eyeing Maedhros and Fingon with a crooked grin. “Dad’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out,” he said finally, and as Maedhros opened his mouth, he added, “But he won’t hear about it from me. Welcome back, Finno.” And with a wink, he sloped off down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0\. Delighted to link you to yet [more incredible art](http://jul-likes-magpies.tumblr.com/post/166018132335/closer-to-the-edge-part-2-after-years) by [Juls](http://jul-likes-magpies.tumblr.com/) for the last couple chapters - her talent knocks me out.  
> 1\. Thanks for sticking with it! I had no idea this little backstory idea I had would grow so _wildly_ out of control. Now these dramamonsters can relax and just be happy forever and have no more angst, ever. Right?


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